高级英语Lesson_2_(BooK_2)_Marrakech_课文内容
残忍的吻>君子藏器于身
Marrakech
George Orwell
1 As the corp went past the flies left the restaurant table in a cloud and rushed after it, but they came back a few minutes later. 水粉静物写生
2 The little crowd of mourners -- all men and boys, no
women--threaded their way across the market place between the
piles of pomegranates and the taxis and the camels, walling a short chant over and over again. What really appeals to the flies is that the corps here are never put into coffins, they are merely wrapped in a piece of rag and carried on a rough wooden bier on the shoulders of
four friends. When the friends get to the burying-ground they hack an
oblong hole a foot or two deep, dump the body in it and fling over it a little of the dried-up, lumpy earth, which is like broken brick. No
gravestone, no name, no identifying mark of any kind. The burying-ground is merely a huge waste of hummocky earth, like a
derelict building-lot. After a month or two no one can even be certain where his own relatives are buried.
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3 When you walk through a town like this -- two hundred
thousand inhabitants of whom at least twenty thousand own literally nothing except the rags they stand up in-- when you e how the
证券公司客户经理people live, and still more how easily they die, it is always difficult to believe that you are walking among human beings. All colonial
empires are in reality founded upon this fact. The people have brown faces--besides, ther
e are so many of them! Are they really the same flesh as your lf? Do they even have names? Or are they merely a kind of undifferentiated brown stuff, about as individual as bees or
coral incts? They ri out of the earth，they sweat and starve for a
few years, and then they sink back into the nameless mounds of the graveyard and nobody notices that they are gone. And even the
graves themlves soon fade back into the soil. Sometimes, out for a walk as you break your way through the prickly pear, you notice that it is rather bumpy underfoot, and only a certain regularity in the bumps tells you that you are walking over skeletons.
4 I was feeding one of the gazelles in the public gardens.
5 Gazelles are almost the only animals that look good to eat when they are still alive, in fact, one can hardly look at their hindquarters without thinking of a mint sauce. The gazelle I was 中国猿人
feeding emed to know that this thought was in my mind, for though it took the piece of bread I was holding out it obviously did not like
me. It nibbled nibbled rapidly at the bread, then lowered its head and tried to butt me, then took another nibble and then butted again.
Probably its idea was that if it could drive me away the bread would somehow remain hanging in mid-air.
6 An Arab navvy working on the path nearby lowered his heavy
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耳珠朝口hoe and sidled slowly towards us. He looked from the gazelle to the bread and from the bread to the gazelle, with a sort of quiet amazement, as though he had never en anything quite like this
before. Finally he said shyly in French: "1 could eat some of that bread."
7 I tore off a piece and he stowed it gratefully in some cret place under his rags. This man is an employee of the municipality.
8 When you go through the Jewish Quarters you gather some
idea of what the medieval ghettoes were probably like. Under their Moorish Moorishrulers the Jews were only allowed to own land in certain restricted areas, and after centuries of this kind of treatment they have cead to bother about overcrowding. Many of the streets
are a good deal less than six feet wide, the hous are completely windowless, and sore-eyed children cluster everywhere in
unbelievable numbers, like clouds of flies. Down the centre of the street there is generally running a little river of urine.
9 In the bazaar huge families of Jews, all dresd in the long black robe and little black skull-cap, are working in dark fly-infested
booths that look like caves. A carpenter sits crosslegged at a prehistoric lathe, turning chairlegs at lightning speed. He works the
lathe with a bow in his right hand and guides the chil with his left foot, and thanks to a lifetime of sitting in this position his left leg is warped out of shape. At his side his grandson, aged six, is already starting on the simpler parts of the job.
10 I was just passing the coppersmiths' booths when somebody noticed that I was lighting a cigarette. Instantly, from the dark holes all round, there was a frenzied rush of Jews, many of them old grandfathers with flowing grey beards, all clamouring for a cigarette.
